Legacy of the Bat
by jarec
Summary: When tragedy strikes, can the BatClan recover? Can Harley? Will Gotham survive a blow as great as this? AU story COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

It was, perhaps, fitting that the whole tragic mess find its inevitable finish at the Ace Chemical Plant

It was, perhaps, fitting that the whole tragic mess found its inevitable finish at the Ace Chemical Plant. That the legendary rivalry between Batman and the Joker end in the same place that it began, so very long ago.  
But let us not get ahead of ourselves.

Commissioner Gordon- former Commissioner now- had been on his way home from his retirement party. He'd been unable to avoid the many toasts in his honor, and being the conscientious lawman that he was, decided to take a cab home. But first, he felt like taking a walk He slowly walked down the street, thinking back on his career. On that hellish first year in Gotham- arriving from Chicago to find that the Police were no better than the criminals. He thought about the first rumors he'd heard of an urban avenger who dressed as a bat. His numerous citations for bravery and efficiency. How his ailing health and political pressure had combined to force him into retirement.

Finally, he saw a cab coming down the street, and since he felt much better he signaled the cabby to pull over. He opened the door and slid in telling the driver his address. The driver nodded and drove off, but soon slowed down.

"Hey, Mac" the driver said, his voice deep and somehow familiar. "Do you mind if we pick up that dame? It ain't exactly safe for a lady to be out alone this time of night." The driver pointed one gloved hand at a young woman standing at the curb, dressed in a wide hat and long coat. Gordon, knowing that a woman out in Gotham at two am risked death or worse, nodded his head in agreement. The door opened again and Gordon slid over to make room.  
As she entered, the woman doffed her hat, revealing a face covered in white greasepaint and a domino mask.  
"Harley Quinn!" Gordon sputtered, reaching for the other door. With a loud click, the car doors locked. The driver turned around, revealing a face that would haunt Gordon to his dying day.

"Sorry Gordy!" The Joker cackled "No exiting the ride until it comes to a full and complete stop! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"  
Gordon felt something pierce his neck, and turned to see Harley holding a small hypodermic needle just before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Gordon awoke to find himself tied to a wheelchair, which in turn was hanging from a winch over a vat of chemicals. With what he knew of the Joker, it wasn't hard to guess where he was, or what was going to happen.

"Let me guess" he called out "We're at the Ace Chemicals plant, and you're going to give me an acid bath ha-ha-ha etcetera."

"Hmm…not quite" the Joker answered from below. Gordon craned his neck and saw the maniac fiddling with the controls for the vat beneath him. "Ah, there we go. Sorry to ignore you G-Piggy but there was a spot of trouble getting the pH balance right. No, this isn't acid chum, it's…well, actually I don't think it has a formal name. It's the same stuff I took a swim in so many years ago. Oh damn! Now the acid-base ratio is off!"

Gordon swallowed. The Joker was a lunatic but he was also a chemical genius. There was little doubt he could synthesize the chemicals that created him if he wanted to. The question was why?

"I bet you're wondering why." The monstrous mountebank said, not looking up from his work "Why am I, the greatest criminal mind in all of Gotham, wasting my time with a B-List character like you. Why turn my undeniable brilliance loose on some over-age cop? Well, the truth is Gordo, you're just a small part of my plan. That's got it, finally done." The clown finally looked up from the controls at Gordon.

"You see, Batman likes you- God alone knows why. By threatening to jokerize you, I guarantee that he'll come. Then I'll offer to let you go if he'll take your place! The heroic boob won't be able to resist! And then we'll get to see if his face really DOES crack if he smiles! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAHHAHAAHAHA!"

"You're delusional, Joker." Gordon spat.

"Maybe so" the Joker said as he began to ascend to the catwalk, which hung over the vats. "But at least I'm sexy! Or at least that's what all the fangirls on the Internet seem to think. HAR-LEY! A little music while we wait if you please."

"Right-A-Roony, Mista J" Harley chirped, pulling out a kazoo. She took a deep breath and began to play 'Danny Boy'. The kazoo music persisted as the Joker walked up to a series of levers, which undoubtedly controlled the winch.

"Now, any minute now the Dork Nut will be along, and we can begin his beauty treatment".

"Guess again Joker." The deep, gravely voice echoed through the largely silent factory until it was impossible to say where it came from. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. The Joker perked up, and his smile got visibly wider.

"Ah, Batsy! Right on time, as always! Now, you know the—Ooof!" The Joker was sent sprawling by a flying kick from Batman. The Dark Knight stood slowly, his face tight with anger.

"It's over, Joker. Batgirl, free Gordon" he said, speaking to a black-clad female figure who emerged from the shadows. Batgirl nodded, and moved to the controls, only to be hit with a surprise attack from Harley Quinn.

"Not so fast, BatBitch! Puddin' has plans, an' you ain't gonna be the one ta ruin 'em"

Up on the catwalk, the Joker and Batman continued their deadly dance. The Joker had unsheathed his sword cane, and was taking swings at his adversary. Though Batman was easily able to avoid the blade, he was unable to close with the Joker- he was only able to force him back. The battle slowly moved down catwalk, and down the line of massive vats- each with their own deadly contents.

The two combatants were tireless, and fairly evenly matched. Though he lacked Batman's muscle and extensive martial arts training, the Joker's tall frame and his sword gave him a decided reach advantage. Moreover, both knew their opponents; they knew every trick their enemy had.

The Joker risked a glance at Harley. The worthless girl was being beaten to a pulp by that silent brat, and soon the Joker would have two Bat- Buttinskis to deal with. Unless…The Joker decided to take a gamble. He hurled his sword at the control box for the winch, striking the main lever perfectly. With a whine of machinery, Gordon was lowered towards the glowing chemical vat below.

Batgirl, knowing that civilians were always the priority, abandoned her battle with Harley and dove for the controls. She managed to reach it and forced the lever back up. Gordon's descent was halted just over the

Pool of chemicals, and he breathed a sigh of relief. With Gordon rescued, and Harley on the ropes, it looked as though Batman's victory was inevitable. And that's when it all went wrong.

Batman had turned briefly to check on Gordon, and in that moment of hesitation, the Joker struck. Launching himself through the air, he smashed into his hated enemy. Batman, distracted and off-balance, was sent over the edge of the catwalk, as was the Joker. The two plummeted towards a vat of hydraulic acid, being prepared for industrial use at the factory.

Batman reached for his zip-line, intending to fire off a rope and swing away, but found his hands being seized by iron-strong fingers. The Joker laughed.

"This is it, Batso! This is the end! We go together! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HA-HA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!"  
The pair hit the liquid with a colossal splash. Batman tried to swim for the surface, but the Joker clung to him with all the strength within his lanky body. The clown's mouth was still twisted into a grin, even as the acid began to dissolve their flesh.

* * *

The next day, the vat of acid was drained by the police. As the chemical was emptied, Gordon tried to convince himself that this wasn't happening.

'He's survived everything else' he reasoned desperately 'he has to have survived this'

Watching from the rafters, Nightwing and Batgirl were telling themselves much the same thing.

"It's Bruce" Nightwing said, more to himself than to Batgirl "He's immortal. A bit of chemicals can't take him down- he probably used his Anti-Acid Batspray, and is just waiting to be let out"

Batgirl turned her head towards the older crimefighter "Anti-Acid Batspray?"

"Whatever! Point is, he's fine. He has to be…"

Below, Harvey Bullock supervised the emptying of the vat. Truth to tell, he still didn't much like the Batman. He wasn't comfortable when civilians put on long underwear and took the law into their own hands- but he didn't wish the freak harm. So he was somewhat put out by what he discovered.

Two skeletons, one still bearing scraps of a Batsuit, with their hands around one anothers throats.

A/N  
Not the end!  
This is the only appropriate way for Batman to die. Locked in combat with the Joker, with each killing the other. Chapter two will be up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightwing didn't remember how he'd gotten back to the cave- the shock of seeing his father's remains had sent him into a fugue state

Nightwing didn't remember how he'd gotten back to the cave- the shock of seeing his father's remains had sent him into a fugue state. He supposed Cassie must have driven them, since the Batmobile was parked in its usual place. He was sitting in front of the massive computer, idly wondering if this was all a dream. If so, it was a bad one.

Bruce was dead.

He could hear Oracle sobbing over the Com, and knew he should say something to comfort her. But his mind was a total blank. He felt totally numb, and knew that whatever he said was apt to be exactly the wrong thing.

Bruce was dead.

Someone would have to tell Alfred, of course. They'd have to be careful about that, the man wasn't as young as he used to be. The shock of telling him his son was dead was likely to kill him, unless they handled it properly. Idly, he wondered if it should be him or Gordon. Coming from a figure of authority such as the former police commissioner might make it a little easier to bear…

"Dick, you aren't listening" Barbara said, gently, as her sobs finally started to die away. She knew that he was in shock0 that the days events had hit him much harder than he realized- he was simply too numb to really fell it yet.

"Oh, sorry" Dick replied, his voice still distant "What did you say?"

"I was saying we're going to have to kill off Bruce Wayne now. I'll set something up- do you think we should go with a nice dignified accident? You know, private yacht hits a storm?"

Dick shook his head with a sad smile "No. Bruce used to say that his civilian identity had no dignity. He…" And suddenly it all registered- Bruce was gone forever. Bruce was dead- his FATHER was dead. Tears began to run down his face. Seeing this, Barbara made up her mind.

"Dick I'm coming over. We'll tell Alfred somehow, and settle things."

* * *

Harley had no idea how she made it back to the Ha-Ha-Cienda. She vaguely remembered stumbling home, in pain from the fight with Batgirl, but certain that her Puddin' would come back sooner or later. After all, even he'd lost count of how many times he'd been pronounced dead. He'd even joked about getting a mausoleum with a revolving door.

But the next day, the police found his body and her world came crashing down. The Joker was dead- her one true love was dead. Her life was essentially over.

Red had called and come over to take care of her. Even now, she was talking about the funeral service that would be held soon at the iceberg. Harley could barely hear her- she simply sat there while Red brushed her hair for her.

"I've asked Clayface to go retrieve the body from the Morgue so we can give the clown a proper send-off. We'll have to wait a bit for the service, of course. Every Rogue in Gotham wants to be there; Oswald is closing the Iceberg to the public. We may not have liked the Joker, but we all respected him." Ivy said, omitting the fact that most of the Rogues would turn up simply to confirm that the Joker was really gone.  
"The real question is, Harl, what are you going to do now?"

"I dunno" That was something Harley had never considered. She had simply assumed that she would be the first to die- either he'd kill her or (less likely) she'd die during one of their 'pranks'. The idea that she might outlive her angel had honestly never occurred to either one of them.

She couldn't go back to her old life- her career was history, her family had long since disowned her, and she was a wanted felon.

"well don't worry. I'll take care of you until you figure it out." Poison Ivy smiled. The clown was gone, and Harley would be hers- as she should have been all along.

* * *

Alfred sat in a chair in the parlor, his face pale and his gaze blank. "Are you certain of this Master Dick? One hundred percent certain?"

"I'm afraid so Alfred" Dick replied, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder "I wish I weren't but I am. He's really gone, and he's not coming back"

"…I see." Alfred wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. Putting his grief aside, he decided to focus on what needed to be done "Have you consulted his will? The real one that is?"  
Dick and Barbara shook their heads. Batman had long ago crafted a 'special' will, one meant only for the eyes of his closest friends and family. It detailed how he wanted to be buried, what was to happen to 'Bruce Wayne' and disposed of his assets. Bruce Wayne's official will simply divided everything between Dick, Barbara, Cassie and Tim Drake.

"then we shall do so after we have arranged funeral services for his costumed self. I daresay 'Bruce Wayne' can be on vacation until we learn how to dispose of him" Alfred said "Now, if you will both excuse me, I-I feel rather weary. I believe I shall retire to my room"

Dick raised a finger "Just one last thing Alfred. Promise me you'll stay on. We need you- I need you."

Alfred gave a weary smile "Very good Master Dick." With that, the aging butler headed down the hall to his room. He managed to get the door shut before the tears overwhelmed him. "Oh, Master Bruce…"

Back in the parlor, Dick picked up the phone and dialed. After a few rings, a cheery voice with a mid-western accent answered.

"Daily Planet, Clark Kent speaking."

"Clark, you have to come to Gotham."

"Dick? What's wrong?"

"Bruce is dead."

A pause "Are you sure?"

"Very. Come now."

* * *

It was decided that there would be no public funeral for Batman. Most of Gotham's honest citizens didn't really believe he existed, and for the dishonest ones news of his death would be a signal to go wild. Instead, those who'd known him best would gather at Wayne Manor and celebrate his life privately. Not all of the JLA was invited- most of them hadn't been close enough for their presence to be appropriate.  
Superman was there, as were J'onn J'onz and Wonder Woman. Plastic Man had been invited; Bruce had been the one to recruit him into the League after all. The final guest was Green Arrow- he had often bickered with Batman, but the two were too similar to avoid some sort of bond.

The group met quietly in the parlor. They were all in costume; a tribute to Batman's oft stated view that he was only truly himself while wearing the cowl.  
"I can't believe he's…really gone." Wonder Woman said, her voice quiet "He was always so strong; I guess I kind of assumed he'd be be the last to go. And to go like that…" She shuddered. "He deserved better than to die at the hands of that grinning ghoul."

Nightwing shrugged "He once told me that if any of his enemies ever did him in, he was sure it would be the Joker. He said that no other enemy had the same drive. Frankly, he seemed all right with it."

Superman leaned against the fireplace, holding a glass of wine in one hand "He was the best of us. His example made us all better than we would have been otherwise. I can't count the number of times I felt we were in an impossible situation, only for Batman to find a way to win. He symbolized to men- to all of us- what it truly meant to be a hero."

Plastic Man, who seemed unusually subdued, nodded "I always admired his total commitment to Justice. He would take on anyone, anything, in the name of Justice. For most of us, me included, being a hero wasn't a choice- he could have stopped anytime, but chose to keep going in the name of Justice. If Supes is our heart, and J'onn is our brain, then Batman was the Soul of the League."

J'onn spoke up from his place near the sofa "It was ironic- physically he was among the weakest of us, yet in many ways he was as much a pillar of strength for the League as Superman. With him gone, we are all a little poorer."

"I don't mean to speak ill of the deceased" Green Arrow said, speaking quietly, swirling his Scotch "But Batman always told the truth as he saw it, so I'll do the same. Let's not over-romanticize the guy, huh? I mean, he was a hard sonovabitch at times. Specifically daytime and nighttime. Yeah, he was a hero, and yeah I admired him, but he also scared the living hell out of me."

Dick smiled "Yeah, and he was proud of that. Said once that he might not have super powers, but he could still make superpowered criminals and heroes alike soil themselves."

A chuckle passed through the room. Superman drank a little of his wine and said "You might not have liked him, you might have been frightened of him- but you couldn't help but respect him." He raised his glass "To Batman."

His gesture was mimicked by all those assembled "To Batman"

* * *

The Iceberg was mostly dark that night. No band played, no one tended bar, and almost all the tables were empty. Gotham's Rogues were gathered around a large table, on which rested a closed coffin. Not all the Rogues could be there, of course. Some were in Arkham or Blackgate, others were overseas. The Riddler, TwoFace, and the Penguin (Oswald had dressed in his old tuxedo and top hat) stood near the head of the table as was their right as the most senior Rogues present. To the left, Harley Quinn sat between Scarecrow and Poison Ivy, both of whom did their best to console her. On the right Bane and Clayface stood silently.

TwoFace flipped his coin, and glanced at the results. Scarred side up.- that meant that TwoFace got to eulogize the clown. If it had been good side up, Harvey Dent would have denounced the Joker as a monster ad celebrated his demise. He gave a sigh and began speaking.

"He was the best of us. More than anyone else, the Joker symbolized what it meant to be a Rogue- to be a supercriminal. We all thought the BatClan was invincible, but time and again the Joker showed us that they could be hurt, even killed. He was more pure than most of us- like ourself, he was devoted to chaos and evil for their own sakes, not for money. He was a brilliant man, and a phenomenal Rogue."

The Riddler nodded "I always admired that. His total dedication to ridding the world of interfering flying rats. He was the soul of our community, and he will be missed. You might not have liked him, you might have hated him, you might have had nightmares about him but you couldn't help but respect him."

Bane cleared his throat "I will admit, he was formidable. I have had dealings to numerous superpowered men- men who can bend steel with their hands, men who can outrun bullets, men who can destroy buildings effortlessly. But all of them feared the Joker. When they spoke of him, it was like children speaking of the Bogeyman."

The Penguin nodded "Yes, I am told that even Lex Luthor would think twice before crossing our fallen friend. Joker was quite proud of that; he would boast that when Supervillains wish to scare one another, they tell Joker stories."

Clayface smirked "Probably not that Laughing Fish story, though."  
Penguin's head whipped round to glare at the former actor "Show some respect, you walking wad of plastocine."

Clayface laughed "I AM showing respect. The Joker would want us to laugh! Hell, his last thought was probably about what a victory it was for him! To finally bring down the Dark Knight!"

"I did not mean for the Joker. You are correct that the clown would enjoy our laughter. I meant show some respect for his widow" the birdlike man pointed with his umbrella to Harley, who was quietly weeping. Scarecrow patted her shoulder and glared at Clayface- a glare that promised swift and terrifying vengeance if no apology was made.

"No" Harley said through the tears "You guys are right, my Puddin' would've wanted people to laugh. S-so l-let's party! Ha ha ha aha huhuh.." her laughter changed to sobs, and she buried her face in her hands.

The Rogues were ready to go their separate ways. But before they went Penguin raised his glass n salute.

"To the greatest Rogue of them all; to the Joker. May your afterlife be blessedly Batfree"

A/N

The wakes in this chapter were meant to be as similar as possible. This is to reflect my opinion that the criminal community sees the Joker pretty much the same way the heroes see Batman. Frightening but respected, more an ally than a friend- and someone to look up to.

I've always felt that Harley and the Scarecrow had some kind of connection- given the way he greets her in the TAS episode Harley's Holiday. My guess would be a mentor-student relationship while she was in college. Maybe I'll do a one-shot about that…

What do y'all think so far?


	3. Chapter 3

The wake had ended shortly after Superman's toast, and the assembled heroes had filed out

The wake had ended shortly after Superman's toast, and the assembled heroes had filed out. Only Superman stayed- of all the JLA he was the only one who really knew Batman. This was reflected in Batman's desire that he be present at the reading of his secret will- in fact Clark Kent was named as one of the beneficiaries. Clark was strangely touched by this- he knew that Batman trusted very few people outside of his 'family', and trusted superhumans less than any. The fact that the man not only wanted him there, but actually wanted him to have something, showed how much Batman had valued their bizarre friendship.

The BatClan were all assembled in the cave. Cassie, Tim, Dick, Barbara, Alfred and Leslie- all had come down to hear what their friend and mentor had to say to them. One last time. Clark took his place at the table, and Alfred opened the envelope. He withdrew a sheaf of papers, all new looking. At the very bottom of the evenlope was a small slip of paper. Dick picked it up and examined it.

"It's a movie ticket stub." He said "For the evening show of Zorro, from…January 25th…twenty years ago."

Barbara gasped and looked at Alfred, who'd gone pale "The twenty-fifth. Wasn't that the night that…"

"Yes" Leslie said, her voice hollow "That was the night his parents were killed. Why did he keep it? And why pass it to us?"

"Perhaps the answer is in Master Bruce's testament" Alfred said "If everyone is ready, I shall read it."

_To all of my family,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead. Barbara, immediately after you have finished here, go to the Batcomputer. Find the File Protocol Omega-11- it will tell you what to do to kill 'Bruce Wayne' in an appropriate manner. Under no circumstances must his death be linkable to the dissapearance of Batman._

_Regarding the disposition of my worldly possessions; you all know that you will be well taken care of financially. You have been given all my stock in Wayne Enterprises- together, you now own a controlling interest in the company. While the decision of how to use that is up to you, I recommend that Tim be placed under the tutelage of Lucius Fox. When Lucius feels he is ready, he should be made CEO. I stress that this is only a recommendation. You know, too, that Wayne Manor is willed to Dick and Tim. Therefore the rest of this document will catalogue only those things which belong to the real me- rather than the buffoon I play in public._

_To Tim Drake, my youngest son, I leave the Batcycle and the Batwing. I know how much you enjoy fast vehicles, and I imagine it would be simpler to customize them to your own theme than, say, the Batmobile. I also leave my accumulated martial arts weapons to your care. Care for them well, and they will care for you.'_

_To Barbara I leave the ownership of the Clocktower, as well as all the computer equipment to be found in the various Satellite Caves. I hope that this will assist you in your role as Oracle. I also bequeath to you my mothers bridal gown- I hope you find a use for it soon. Finally, I place in your care the ticket stub that you will find enclosed with this document. It is the only thing I have from that night so long ago when everything changed. I ask that you keep it, and show it to any new members of the Family. Tell them its story, and remind them why we do this._

_To Clark Kent I leave the hypertech I accumulated in the course of my career. This includes all alien and future technology. I also give you my collection of Gray Ghost and Zorro DVDs. These are the last symbols of my youth and innocence Clark- and I know that you will gain more pleasure from them than anyone else. Enjoy. Keep the League honest, and never ever abandon those Boy Scout morals of yours. It's always been your greatest strength- Kryptonian powers be damned._

_To Cassandra Cain, I leave all my martial arts materials. Also, there are three files on the Batcomputer that may be of interest to you. One is a map listing the various locations where I learned to fight. The other two are files on David Cain and Lady Shiva, your father and mother. I know you want to learn more about where you come from and who you are- I hope these gifts can assist you._

_To Alfred Pennyworth, I leave not property but a duty. I ask that you stay with the family. That you care for and guide my children as you did me. I know that you have undoubtably earned your retirement, old friend, but I need you to do this for me."_

Here Alfred paused to wipe his eyes. "as though there were any doubt Master Bruce"

_To Leslie Tompkins I leave all the medical data in the Batcomputer, as well as all of my father's medical library. My hope is that it will be able to save lives when I myself am gone. I can think of no better memorial than that._

_Finally, to Dick Grayson, my eldest son I leave three things. My cowl, my car, and my city. Dick, there is no one on earth I trust more than you to take over as Batman. I had always thought that you would one day take over for me- that was the reason I was so hurt when you left Gotham to become Nightwing. Nevertheless, I understand your need to be your own man. You don't have to adopt the cowl if you don't want to- but I do ask that you stay in Gotham to lead the others. Tim and Cassie are still too young, and Oracle is support. They need you, Dick._

_I have one request to make of all of you. Tell Jim Gordon and Selina Kyle. Not just that the Batman is dead, but who he really was. I owe them that much at least._

_Finally, I could not let this end without telling you all how much I love you. Tim, Dick you are my sons- my pride and joy and the finest legacy I could hope to leave behind me. You were great kids, and I can tell you will turn out to be exceptional men. Cassie, you were my daughter- you came to us late and you came to us confused. But I couldn't be happier with the way you've grown over the years. Barbara , you are the only one of all of them who made a conscious choice to be what you were. You forced me to accept you as Batgirl- and it's a choice I've never regretted. You've proven time and again what a miracle you are, and I love you as much as my other children._

_Alfred, you know how I feel Father, and I won't embarrass you by saying anything more. Leslie, you kept me alive and kept me sane, and guided me down the right path._

_Take care of one another, and of Gotham._

_Bruce Wayne/Batman._

By the end of the reading there wasn't a single dry eye in the entire cave.

A/N  
Bruces will is pretty much everything I think he wants to say but will never ever ever be able to.

Harley returns next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Most Gothamites who know anything about Poison Ivy assume she lives in the city's many large parks- perhaps in just one or possibly moving among them. They believe that a woman who was part plant, controlled plants, and frankly preferred plants to people would naturally choose to dwell amidst her beloved flora. These people, however, were forgetting about Batman. When you are regularly pursued by violent vigilantes intent on dragging you to the local nuthouse, it's only common sense to have a few bolt-holes which don't fit with your theme. TwoFace had a small cellar-suite on Eleventh Avenue, the Scarecrow owned a loft just over a sports bar, and Poison Ivy rented a small apartment near the wharves.

So it was that Harley sat at the kitchen table of a rather dingy apartment, lost entirely in her own grief and misery. The Joker was gone, killed by that vicious evil Batman. He was gone and she had no purpose in life anymore. Around her, Ivy puttered about the room, rambling on about something or other. Harley wasn't really listening, but kept one ear open so she could say 'Yes Red' when necessary.

"…life will be SO much better for you now, trust me on this Harl…"

"Yes, Red"

The thing of it was, the Joker was the center of her world. Not in the sense of being the central person in her life; he WAS her life, her identity. Without the Joker there was no Harley Quinn, there was just Harleen Quinzell in a strange outfit. In the past when they'd been separated, she'd at least known that he was out there, somewhere. Even on those occassions when he'd been declared dead, she had told herself (correctly) that he was still alive- after all, without a body there was no actual PROOF, was there? But this time it was certain- he was dead.

"…a weed, that's what he was. A filthy, vile weed slowly but surely choking the life out of you, denying you your time in the sun…"

"Yes, Red"

It was true that Harley wasn't alone in this. Professor Crane had told her that if she ever needed money, or someone to talk to, or anything else to call him. He'd always been so good to her. Of course, Red was always there; hugging her, stroking her, grooming her…Harley knew Red had a bit of a thing for her, and guessed with Mista J gone, Red was making her move. She supposed she should be a little uncomfortable with that, but she couldn't honestly bring herself to care.

The other Rogues hadn't had much to do with her after the funeral- although Oswald had torn up her and Mista J's bar tabs, saying that 'the extermination of the Bat more than compensates for your bills'. In truth, though, most of them had seemed glad to see her Puddin' gone. She knew why too- predators don't like being frightened, and almost every one of them had feared the Joker.

"…get you your hair done right, maybe a change of costume. Do you like green Harley?"

"Yes, Red"

Harley tried to think of what Puddin' would want her to do with herself. Truth to tell, it was hard to say. Normally when a loved one dies, it's easy to say to oneself 'He'd want me to go on with my life'. When the deceased was a homicidal megalomaniac, that isn't quite as obvious. It was entirely possible that he'd want her to bury herself alive with him.

"…get the clown buried tonight, don't worry I know a place. Then plant something nice over him- I think daisies, don't you?"

"Yes, Red"

One thing was for sure, she couldn't return to 'normal' life. Even if she could somehow distance herself completely from her past, and start completely fresh, that sort of life just wasn't for her anymore. Years of living the Joker's exciting lifestyle had made normality an almost unbearable torment for her. The idea of a regular profession- however lucrative- sounded unimaginably tedious and confining. As for relationships…

"…and Batman too! HA! The Joker did us all a favor, Harl. Well, apart from making you who you are. I tell you, this town is going to be easy pickings!"

"Yes, Red"

Harleen Quinzell had been a psychologist and she knew that her relationship with the Joker was not healthy by any stretch of the imagination. She had been a love-slave, pure and simple- and as often as not, the subject of some truly horrifying abuse despite his love for her. But, at the same time, it had been hands down the most satisfying relationship of her life. The Joker had been exciting, charming, sexy, dangerous and on occasion unbelievably romantic.

She'd never forget the night he'd simply arrived at their hideout carrying a dozen roses- red and black. He'd dismissed the henchmen, and they'd spent the night dancing to old records. Waltzes, tango, cha-cha, foxtrot, even some disco- they'd danced for hours, before retiring to the bedroom for a different sort of dance. The next day, he'd literally kicked her out of bed to get his breakfast, but the memory of that night was one of her favorites.

Honestly, what other man could compare?

Ivy, meanwhile continued to talk, largely oblivious to her companions mood. Ivy was, like most psychopaths, largely oblivious to other people except as they related to her and her desires. She didn't badmouth the Joker to diminish him in Harley's eyes- she did it because she didn't realize Harley MIGHT take offense. Hence her remark

"Honestly, now we can get on with our lives and forget that that STUPID clown ever existed"

Maybe it was her grief, or maybe it was Ivy's callous comment, or maybe it was just a new facet to her madness. Whatever it was, something in Harley Quinn changed forever in that instant.

Ivy suddenly felt her hair being grabbed and pulled hard. She barely had time to register the pain of this when her nose smashed into the apartment's ash-gray wall. Then her head was pulled back, and slammed into the wall again. And again. There was a loud crunch as her nose broke, and the plant woman slumped to the floor. Holding her injured nose, she looked up to see Harley standing over her. Her blue eyes blazing with fury, the clown girl delivered a thunderous kick to Ivy's side.

"No one is going to forget Mista J! I swear it! I'll keep my angel's memory alive in Gotham, by doing the things he would do if that miserble Batman hadn't murdered him! You can help if you want Ivy, but don't EVER talk bad about my Puddin' again! I've put up with it til now cause we're pals, but not no more. Do you understand me, Red?" When no answer was forthcoming, Harley repeated her question but this time punctuated each word with another kick "DO! YOU! UNDERSTAND!"

"YES! YES!" Ivy wailed, cruling into a ball to shield herself from Harley's attack. This was bizarre and more than a little frightening. Harley never stood up to her- not to defend herself or to defend the Joker. But right now, Ivy was certain that Harley would kill her in an instant.

Suddenly, Harley's fury vanished, like a doused flame. Her face softened, and her eyes became warm. "Oh, Red, I'm so sorry. Ya just got me a little worked up, y'know? Don't do it again, 'kay? Say, Red" harley said, her voice becoming sultry "I'm getting' a little worked up right now. Howsabout you get into the bedroom and let Mama kiss it all better?"

Ivy nodded feverishly. She'd been hoping to ease Harley into her bed over the course of a few months, and she certainly never intended it to go like this. But she was sure she could take control of things. She was Gaia's Chosen, the Goddess of the Green. She would take control and convince Harley to abandon this new idea of hers. Then she and Harley would be happy.

Harley followed her new toy into the bedroom. Harley liked men- and if the Joker were here, she'd never do this. But a girl has needs, and Ivy was handy and willing. She needed to 'scratch her itch' if she was going to stay focused. She was a clown with a mission now. Puddin's name would live forever in Gotham, she vowed.

* * *

Dick and Tim plodded wearily up the path that lead to Wayne Manor. They had spent the entire day at the offices of Henderson, Fisk & Roberts- the Wayne family law firm. This came at the end of a week of full-day meetings and trips. There had been mountains of forms for them to fill out, and papers to read, and lists of properties that needed to be surveyed. But finally, after a whole week, it was done; they had seen to the distribution of Bruce Wayne's public assets. The two young men wearily entered what was now THEIR house.

Waiting in the hall were Alfred and Barbara. Alfred held a tea tray with cookies and what smelled like hot chocolate, while Barbara greeted the pair with a warm smile.  
"How did it go?" she asked, wheeling her chair over to the parlor. The others followed, Dick and Tim munching on cookies.

"It went. That's the best I can say" quipped Dick, as he picked up a cup of hot chocolate "it was boring, repetitive, and more than a little depressing. The only upside is that I had time to think about Bruce's request."

Barbara nodded, trying to keep her nervousness from showing. "And did you decide?"

Dick shrugged "Bruce was right. You guys need a leader and I'm the only one really qualified for the job. I've the most experience, both as a crimefighter and as a leader, plus I've got the Batman seal of approval. Besides, the rest of you are kids and women."

Barbara turned a frosty glare on him "What's wrong with women leading?"

"Woemn? Leading" dick answered with a playful smirk "next thing you know you'll be wanting to vote"

Barbara rolled her eyes and smacked him on the leg "Ass."

Dick nodded his head, but then became serious. "I'm not going to do it as Batman, though. I worked hard to make Nightwing a name to be feared, and I'm not giving it up. "

Now it was Tim's turn to nod "Whatever you say… Old Man"

"What about you, Miss Gordon" Alfred said, doing his best to ignore the scuffle between the two brothers "You said you also had some news to impart"

The redhead sighed "Well, I told my father about what happened. He didn't seem surprised, actually, to learn that Bruce was Batman. He said that he'd made a list of twelve people who could plausibly be Batman and that Bruce was number five. He wouldn't tell me who the others were, said that was irrelevant. He asked NOT to be told who the next Guardian of Gotham will be."

"Say it! Say it!" Yelled the new Guardian of Gotham, as he pulled the elastic his brothers underwear higher and higher into the air.

"OW! OWW! You're not an old man! You're not an old man!" Tim yelped, while everyone laughed. After a week of gloom, things were finally starting to get back on ttrack. They all still missed Bruce, but life went on.


	5. Chapter 5

The group headed down the stairs to the cave

The group headed down the stairs to the cave. Dick carried Barbara in his arms (a situation neither of them complained of) and Tim carried her wheelchair. Alfred brought up the rear, walking more slowly than normal; Tim noticed this and slowed his pace until the two were close enough to speak quietly.

"Something wrong, Alfred? You seem to lack your usual energy. And don't give me that English 'stiff-upper-lip-everything-is-fine-tally-ho' line. You're moving slower than normal and you didn't reprimand Dick for giving me a wedgie upstairs."

Alfred raised an eyebrow "Far be it for me to reprimand my employers if one of them chooses to dispense some entirely appropriate punishment. But yes, Master Timothy, I have been feeling a bit frailer than normal. I have outlived the only son I shall ever have; I suppose that has caused me to feel my years as they say"

Tim nodded. There really wasn't much else to do. Alfred was in his early sixties and nothing could change that. "Well, don't feel too many of your years just yet- we need you badly. And we- we love you, Alfred. I know it's supposed to be this great unspoken thing around here, but there it is."

Alfred smiled and put an arm around Tim's shoulder, though such open emotion went against his nature. "Very well, Master Timothy. I love you all as well"

Upon reaching the cave, Barbara gave a brief summary of the protocol Bruce had put in place to kill off his civilian identity. First, they had sent a video message to Lucius Fox- one that Bruce had pre-recorded for precisely this occasion. In it, Bruce said he was going on a sailing vacation- "Maybe to Nice- that sounds nice. Ha ha ha!"- and would Lucius see to the company while he was gone. He also asked that the boys be sent to the family law firm to check out his will and to Naturally, Lucius had called the manor; ostensibly to catch Bruce before he left but in reality to gripe to Alfred about 'that irresponsible child you raised'.

Alfred had listened and murmured words of apology, all the while fighting to keep his mixed emotions out of his voice. On the one hand, he did NOT like hearing his recently deceased son disparaged but on the other hand, even the staid gentleman's gentleman had to admit that hearing the Batman called stupid and irresponsible was funny.

Next came step two. A day later, Bruce's yacht had been sent out under remote control. Since Bruce was known as an accomplished Yachtsman (a necessary skill in his circle), few would think much of his taking her out alone. The GoodTime Galleon, as it was named (Bruce had shuddered as he wrote that down but he'd known that his dignity was unimportant when it came to guarding his identity) had entered open waters three days after the incident at the chemical plant. The very next day Barbara had blown her up- although forensic analysis would later discover a malfunction in the engine had caused the explosion. Bruce Wayne was officially dead.

Then had come the tedious legal business that accompanies tragedy- the investigation, the questioning -an accident JUST after he sends his sons to review the will? But there was no evidence of foul play and no sign of guilt from the boys, so no one was all that suspicious- and finally the dispersal of property.

"So all that's left is the funeral" Barbara said "I've arranged for an empty casket affair at Gotham Presbyterian tomorrow. The coffin will be interred in the family cemetery, right next from his parents. Daddy released Batman's body to us already, so we can sneak it in the night before. Who's up for a break-in at a high-society funeral home? Okay Cassie and Tim."

"I do wish this weren't necessary" Alfred sighed "To actually sneak a body into a coffin- it's ghoulish."

"I know" Dick nodded "But I'd rather do this than not let him rejoin his parents. I'll do my first patrol tonight. I'm thinking of starting in the Bowery, swing up to Robinson Park, then a slow prowl through Crime Alley, with a stop in Gotham Heights and a final stop at the Iceberg around 3AM."

Tim shook his head "What are you going to be doing at the Iceberg? None of the Rogues have done anything"

"they're breathing, that's a crime in itself" Dick said, to general laughter "No, I just want them to see me out and about. But while I'm there I'll loudly demand that someone tell me where Matches Malone is."

"Ah, good old Matches" Tim laughed "Maybe we should do that. Bruce said that he sometimes got better info as Matches than he did as Batman."

"Hey, look man. If you want to put on that ugly soup-strainer and wear that godawful suit, that's fine with me. Leave me the hell out of it"

* * *

Scarecrow sat at a small table at the Iceberg lounge, waiting. Harley Quinn had contacted him last night, asking to meet him here. She'd sounded much better than before; he hoped for the best, but as a psychologist he knew that it was too soon for Harley to be feeling as chipper as she sounded.

As he waited, he looked around the room. No doubt about it, things were starting to pick up again. With Batman gone, the Rogues were all buzzing around, trying to decide what to do first. He himself had a number of plans and was having the damndest time trying to decide between them. Gas the Gotham University stadium on gameday or hit the big shopping mall? Decisions, decisions…

As he was pondering this monumental decision, Harley Quinn entered the lounge. There were a few things that struck him as off- first, Harley walked sedately towards him rather than her usual half-run half-skip movement. Secondly, Poison Ivy walked behind her- not unusual in and of itself, but the plant woman seemed…cowed. Frightened. In fact, Crane reflected, she looked the way Harley did when the Joker was angry with her.

Harley reached the table and sat down. She was silent for a moment and then "Professor Crane I have a problem"

Normally, when Harley called him Professor Crane it indicated she wanted advice or assistance. It had always been that way, since the time when he had been her mentor at Gotham University. He responded as he always did "Certainly, Miss Quinzel. How may I help you to help yourself?"

Harley flashed him a brief smile, then turned to Ivy. "Red, why doncha go have a drink at the bar, 'kay? Momma's got some business ta take care of. Go on." And, miraculously, Ivy meekly nodded her head and went. Crane was dumbfounded- Ivy was as irritating as her namesake and everyone in the Iceberg sometimes wished they could do what Harley had just done. His surprise must have shown on his face (full-face masks were prohibited at the Iceberg) for Harley laughed a little.

"Earlier tonight, me an' Red had a bit of a fight. She said some nasty stuff about Mista J an' I guess I just lost my temper." Harley shrugged "I mighta hit her a bit, but the stuff she said deserved it."

Crane, who felt that Ivy deserved death and worse just for being as irritating as she was, made encouraging sounds, but then said "Momma?"

Harley smiled ruefully and cleared her throat/ "Professor, I want to continue Mista J's work. I want to make sure he's remembered the way he wanted to be. But, I don't really know a lot about Rogueing. I mean, I watched Mista J a lot but.." she trailed off, embarrassed.

"But you weren't thinking while you watched him? Or at least, you weren't thinking about learning?" Crane said, not harshly. Harley laughed again and nodded. "Why don't you ask Ivy? I'm sure she'd be happy to help **momma** out."

Harley raised an eyebrow under her small mask "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

Crane shrugged "Call it my tribute to the Joker- you know he'd have had fun with it. After killing Ivy, of course. Now answer the question child."

Harley was silent a moment, marshalling her thoughts. "Red ain't the same kinda Rogue I wanna be. She's got her powers, an' she relies on 'em almost completely. She doesn't use gadgets, or henchmen, or even plans all that often. You do- you make damn good plans; I never do. You know how to order the henchmen around- I'm always too nice to 'em. You know where to fence loot and where to get the money cleaned- I don't. Puddin' always took care of that stuff- an' now I gotta learn."

Crane considered. There was not really much choice about it. He was, first and foremost, a teacher- and his all-time favorite student was asking him for help. "I'll help you, child. Tomorrow, meet me at the old Haunted House, where we shall begin your education in the noble art of Roguery. In exchange, you will keep Poison Ivy away from me. That woman gets on my nerves."

Harley smiled "Deal. Thank you Professor. This means a lot to me- I kinda need someone to help me. It's been…it's been hard, losin' my Puddin'." Her face fell, and her shoulders slumped "It hurts, y'know? I wake up in the morning and run to make him breakfast, only to remember halfway that he's gone. Or, or, I'll be watchin' TV and I'll see something he likes and I'll shout for him before I remember…" Tears leaked from her eyes.

The doctors at Arkham often said that Scarecrow was lacking in empathy. For the most part this was true- there were very few people in the world that he gave a damn about. But Harley was one of them. Taking a ragged handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped her eyes. "I know, child. All I can say is, time heals all wounds. Go home ,child, and be ready for tomorrow."

A/N

It's decided- after I'm done with this story I do one on Harley and the Scarecrow. It'll be called either the Clown and the Crane or I Have A Problem.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The next evening found Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy arrive at the Funland Haunted House

The next evening found Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy arrive at the Funland Haunted House. Harley had quite enjoyed walking through the old amusement park- it brought back so many wonderful memories. She could still remember how happy her Puddin' had been to have a new playground- and how fast Batman had been to stop their fun. She ground her teeth at the memory. Batman! Always butting in to attack her angel- so what if they'd gassed a few people with SmileX filled balloons? All Mista J ever wanted was to make people happy, but Batman wouldn't let him. And now, that beast had stolen her one true love from her.

"H-Harley?" Ivy's voice was tentative, frightened "Y-You're hurting me."

Harley glanced down- she and Ivy had been holding hands and in her anger she had squeezed with all her considerable strength. "Sorry, Red" she said, although in truth she didn't really care. More and more she was starting to see why the Joker had always hated Poison Ivy. Red really was irritating, and sometimes Harley just wanted to slap some sense into that red head of hers- and she was finding less and less reason to restrain herself. Honestly, just the thought of how she'd look with a black eye on her green face…

They reached the Haunted House just as the sun sank below the horizon. The Haunted House was a dilapidated wreck, though in all fairness it had probably been designed that way. Most of the windows held broken glass, the roof was missing many of its tiles, and one of the pillars in the front had been knocked askew. The building had a palpable aura of despair and fear- in short a perfect hideout for the self-proclaimed Master Of Fear.

Most amusement parks haunted houses are laid out with a single path in mind, so as to minimize the expense while maximizing the 'terror'. This one, however, had been designed to be a major attraction for the park. Modeled after a legendary Victorian manor (rumored to be genuinely haunted), the entire building was riddled with animatronic ghosts, rattling chains, hidden alcoves (for costumed employees to jump from) and the like. Since taking occupancy, the Scarecrow had added a small kitchen and a large laboratory. It was here that Harley was headed, to begin her lessons in the art of Roguery.

Moving down the stairs, which originally lead to the employee area, the pair found themselves in an elaborate (if somewhat makeshift) lab. Beakers bubbled with the Scarecrow's signature Fear Toxin, which was then subjected to high temperature and pressure until it vaporized. The psychotic psychologist was intently monitoring this, periodically scribbling notes on a clipboard.

"…added potency by increasing heat…"

"Hi Professor Crane! I'm here for my lessons!"

Crane turned and scowled at Ivy. "What did I say about bringing that woman?"

"Oh, she's just here to see me in. Red, go wait outside."

"Harley, I really don't think…"

WHAP! Harley's fist collided with Ivy's cheek, sending the plant woman reeling into the wall. Ivy clapped a hand to her cheek and stared at Harley. The blonde was shaking with anger and said "I. Said. Wait. Out. SIDE!"

Poison Ivy, Goddess of the Green and Chosen Of Gaia, fled upstairs.

At the sidelines, Crane watched with dry interest. 'It appears as though Harley has rediscovered her backbone. Good.'

Out loud he said "Shall we begin?"

* * *

Nightwing slowly awoke from slumber, and experienced a moment of panic as he realized his surroundings were unfamiliar. This lasted only a second, before he realized he was in Bruce's bedroom, which had fallen to him as eldest of Bruce's inheritors. He sighed and rolled out of the large bed, and surveyed the austere chamber. No paintings, other than a small portrait of Thomas and Martha on the nightstand. No stereo, no plants, nothing whatsoever to indicate what sort of man had slept here for three decades.  
That was another weird thing- Bruce had never moved out of his childhood bedroom and had flatly refused to even enter the Manor's master bedroom. "That's my parents room" was all he'd ever say. At first, Dick had thought that was stupid. The Master bedroom was far larger and more aesthetic than this room, why not use it? Then he thought of his father's fine shoes, or his mothers sewing kit, both untouched since their deaths, and he understood.

Slowly, slowly, the young hero rose from the bed. His every muscle and joint screamed in protest- last night had been one of the worst he'd ever seen. Gotham's lowlifes had heard that Batman AND Joker were dead- meaning there was a hole in the underworld power structure and no big bad Bat to stop them from filling it. He'd been run ragged, and hit hard, last night. The trouble was that the criminals didn't fear him- one of them had actually joked about his being out without his daddy to look after him. Still, Dick wasn't put out- it had taken years for Nightwing to be a real force in Bludhaven.

Far less encouraging was the difficulty he'd had simply navigating Gotham City. He'd been in Bludhaven for over a decade, and he knew that city as well as he knew his childhood bedroom. He knew every alleyway and shortcut perfectly. In contrast, Gotham was very different from his memories- he'd actually gotten lost more than once and had to rely on Oracle to direct him.

He heard someone knock gently on the door. He managed to ignore the pain long enough to get the door open. Alfred stood there, slightly surprised to see him. He held a silver tray with coffee, toast, juice, a newspaper and a bottle of painkillers on it. Before saying anything at all, Dick grabbed the pills and dry-swallowed two.

"Alfred" he said, relief evident in his voice "You are a lifesaver. Would you like to be the new Robin?"

"I think not sir" Alfred said as he set the tray on the nightstand, his voice as dry as ever "I fear I don't have the calves to wear the costume well. Traditionally, sir, a gentleman eats his breakfast in bed, and never opens the door for the butler"

Dick swallowed the toast he was eating and leveled a serious gaze at Alfred "Alfred. I'm not a traditional man, not in this. You were as much my father as Bruce, and I won't treat you like a servant. Deal with it. Now, is this all the breakfast I get?"

The elderly butler looked ashamed for a moment "I'm afraid, sir, that I was somewhat distracted this morning. I inadvertently prepared Master Bruce's breakfast; toast and coffee are all he requires in the mornings. All he required."

"We're all missing him, Alfred. Tell you what, you go down and start a couple of eggs while I get dressed. I've always preferred to eat at the kitchen table, anyway."

* * *

"First and foremost" the Scarecrow said, as he paced the room "You must decide what sort of Rogue you wish to be. There are several types. There are those such as Bane, the Ventriloquist and Catwoman who commit crimes solely for profit. They tend to be quite straightforward in their planning and their targets are selected based on what will yield the greatest gain for the least risk. The second type are those like myself and Poison Ivy, who direct our abilities towards some greater goal; in my case, research. "

"An' the money don't hurt either, huh Professor Crane?" Harley chirped. She was seated at a small desk and furiously taking notes. Crane liked that; it took him back to his days as a lecturer at the university.

"Indeed it does not. Now, the next group of Rogues are the obsessives- their crimes are the direct and unavoidable result of their various illnesses. Firefly and Mad Hatter are good examples of this- a pyromaniac and a schizophrenic with an Alice In Wonderland fixation. The fourth classification of Rogues are those who act purely for the challenge; the Riddler is the epitome of this. Yes, child?"

Harley had her hand in the air "Where does…did… Mista J fit in?"

Scarecrow nodded. "The Joker fits into the final category of Gotham criminal- the HardCore Rogue. These are individuals who have dedicated their entire lives to havoc and chaos. He, TwoFace and to a lesser extent Ra's AlGhul (lovely name, but a frightful bore) are the ONLY members of this class."

"I wanna be like Mista J" Harley said immediately. "I'm gonna carry on his good work!"

Crane nodded "I admit I expected as much. Very well then; to be a member of the HardCore group you must be ruthless, inventive, unpredictable and brilliant. It will require your every waking moment, especially if you wish to follow in such large footprints as the Joker's. Are you ready for such a commitment Harley?"

"Yes, SIR!" Harley said, snapping off a salute.

"Very well then. Your training begins now. Within the next hour, produce a plan to level this amusement park. You may use any materials you can think of, but be warned you will be judged based on your originality."

Harley was surprised, and a little angry "But you haven't TAUGHT me anything!"

"And I shan't until I know your abilities. Tempus Fugit, Harley. I'd get to work, if I were you."

A/N  
Perhaps I should make it clear that any relationship between Scarecrow and Harley would be decidedly non-sexual. If anything, Jonathan Crane is asexual- he probably thinks of intercourse as slightly nauseating, and prefers screams of terror to a screaming orgasm. It 'd be more of a teacher-student thing.

Next chapter: Informing Selina and the Scarecrow School Of Roguery continues.


	7. Chapter 7

Poison Ivy sat on a dilapidated bench, in front of an old fountain. The fountain had originally been of white plaster, cunningly designed to look like marble. It consisted of three circular basins, one inside the other, forming a sort of step pyramid. Once, when the water was flowing and clear, it might have been quite jolly. Now, the stone was gray and the water was murky. In many ways, it reminded Ivy of her life.

A few short days ago, everything had been going her way. The Joker had died, Batman was gone, and Harley was as docile as a daffodil. Then Harley had snapped and started hitting her. But Ivy was sure she could regain control- she was Gaia's Chosen, after all. Already, she was compiling a list of behaviors and comments to avoid in Harley's presence. She was slowly but surely finding the levers she could use to manipulate the clown girl. To do anything else would be to admit defeat- that the Goddess of the Green could be intimidated by a bottle blonde in a clown suit! Soon, Ivy would be in the drivers seat. Soon.

* * *

Harley felt like she was back in university again, preparing for her doctoral thesis. Here was Professor Jonathan Crane, looking over her work and periodically making cryptic noises like "Mmm.", "Hnh.", or "Psh". Here she stood, her tasseled cap in hand, and butterflies in her stomach. She was proud of the plan she had concocted: A network of tunnels dug beneath the grounds, then crammed with explosives. Finally, a remote detonator and KABOOM!

Finally, the skinny psychopath looked up and pronounced his verdict. "A Failure."

Harley would normally have been downcast; she would have cried and whined. Instead she was filled with a sudden burning rage. "WHAT?! That plan was brilliant! Foolproof! How DARE you!"

Scarecrow was taken aback by Harley's outburst, but rallied "And totally devoid of any personal touches or theme. We are not mere terrorists, miss Quinzell. Nor are we interested in mere murder- we have FLAIR. The Joker- whose shoes you aspire to fill- would never have come up with anything so humdrum as a mere bombing. No, he would involve his toxin, and he would never jump right to such an act as this- he would use it as a grand finale. You will try again, later. For now, however, we will move on to the basics of command."

The Scarecrow then lauanched into a lecture about how to manage henchmen. He outlined the basic facts about the Rogue-Henchman Relationship, calling it a necessary alliance. "Remember, child" he said "They are not like us. Deep down in their wormy souls, these brutes still believe in the myth of law and the fantasy of order. Never order them to do anything TOO outside of those boundaries- they have their limits. Shootings, fine but torture? No."

Harley wrote furiously. She had never considered this. "I got a question, Professor. How should I treat them when we ain't working?"

"You should have as little to do with them as possible. Think of them as being like garbage men or street cleaners- men who provide us with an important service but not people you'd want to have over for dinner. It is vital to your position that they remain a little afraid of you- never quite sure if today will be the day that you kill them. In this way, you are assured of their obedience- and their efficiency. Fear is such a wonderful motivator"

"But Professor, if I treat 'em that badly, won't they leave?"

"Harley, you worked with the Joker. You must have seen him do horrible things to them, yet I can't recall more than a handful who left his employ of their own free will. The truth is, people will put up with almost anything for enough money. The Joker paid more than any other crime lord in the city- there is a formula, which I will teach you later, to calculate approximately how much to pay to compensate for your poor treatment of the help. I myself must pay significantly more than the going rate due to the danger of being used as a test subject."

Harley continued to scribble all this down. And the lessons continued

* * *

In the massive kitchen of Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth was kept usy by the massive appetites of his young employers. Breakfast had always been the main meal of the day for the crimefighters of Gotham- and now they were working harder than ever. Tim and Dick had both been out late patrolling Gotham- and had been hard-pressed to keep the city from coming apart completely.

"I've never seen it this bad" Tim said, from around a mouthful of waffle "Even during No Man's Land. I mean, the city was in a shambles and the criminals ran things but there was a kind of order."

Tim sipped his second cup of coffee. "Yeah, but remember that not only is Batman gone, but so is the Joker. The underworld hierarchy is in chaos- whether he exerted his power or not Joker was always king of the crime world and now he's gone. I think things are going to get worse before they get better. You spoke to Oracle last- does she have any news?"

Tim nodded "Yeah, and all of it bad. It looks like TwoFace and Bane are taking the lead in the race to the top- and it looks like they're going to start fighting it out any day now. Bane has the Latin gangs, while TwoFace has the unaffiliated thugs- he's even got the Ventriloquist and Scarface acting as his lieutenants!"

Dick grimaced "That's going to get bloody. I know for a fact that the major mafia families have been itching to take control back from the Rogues- with the King of the Rogues Gallery gone, and his two would be successors at one anothers throats, they might just make a move. We'll swing by the major Tataglia and Falcone hang-outs tonight to dissuade them from the idea."

"Dick, I don't know how much good that's going to do much good" Tim spoke hesitantly, conscious that he was broaching a very sensitive topic. "I know that you put a lot of effort into your Nightwing persona…"

Slam! Dick's fist hit the table hard, causing the silverware to shake visibly. "That's right, I did. And I'm not giving it up to become a clone of Batman! End of discussion!" He stormed from the kitchen.

Alfred calmly walked over to the table and refilled Tim's juice "Not to worry Master Timothy. I believe Master Dick is still dealing with the tragic loss of Master Bruce. I'm sure that, given time, he will adapt."

Tim rose from the table "That's the trouble, Alfred. We don't HAVE time."

He pursued Dick down the hall, only to find his 'brother' in the family gallery, staring up at a picture of Bruce. It had been painted for the Wayne Enterprises shareholders meeting a few years back- it had been a particularly profitable year and everyone wanted to celebrate. Ordinarily, Bruce would never have done such a thing. In the portrait Bruce looked competent, smart and energetic- definitely NOT the image Bruce wanted the public to see. Alfred had managed to convince his employer not to destroy the painting immediately after the meeting. Now, Dick looked up at it with tears in his eyes.

"I'm screwing it up, aren't I Tim? I mean, Bruce would have been on top of this situation- hell, he'd have nipped it in the bud. They feared Batman, you know- I've seen crooks run straight into the arms of the police rather than face him. Me, they make jokes about and laugh at. But I can't bring myself to put on his cowl- it'd be like admitting that the last decade or so of my life was meaningless"

Tim hugged his brother "hey, man, it'll be all right. We'll get through this and Nightwing will have the street cred he deserves. Now quit bawling- it's getting embarassing"

Dick smiled and swatted Tim's head "Dork"

"Geek"

A/N  
I don't see Ivy as being the type who can just walk away from even an abusive relationship. Her megalomania and control issues mean that she wouldn't be able to accept that such a relationship existed- any signs of abuse are temporary setbacks. She has to believe that ultimately she can control anyone, and so she has to stay in there until it happens. Explains a lot about her, really- like why she doesn't just leave Gotham for some Bat-free city. She has to prove to herself that she can subjugate Batman. I wonder if she ever thinks something like that about Joker though…  
I'm afraid I won't be able to go into detail regarding Harley's training- anyone who wants to can feel free.


	8. Chapter 8

Dick stumbled into the clock tower, blood flowing freely from his side. One of Bane's hoods had gotten a lucky shot wit a pistol- or fairly lucky; though the Teflon bullet had pierced his kevlar armor it had only grazed his side.

It had been two weeks since the death of his mentor and Gotham City was on the verge of collapse. Gang warfare raged in the streets as Bane, TwoFace and now King Snake tried to seize control of the city. Worse yet, the Rogues were having a positive field day- Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Clayface and Roxy Rocket had all pulled heists in the last few days. He'd even heard rumors that Harley Quinn had been pulling jobs- though he didn't know for sure, having been too busy to stop an ex-henchwench. The city was in near-total anarchy- and he was powerless to stop it.

He reached the work area, where Barbara Gordon became the all-seeing Oracle. Her eyes were on the monitor but she flicked a glance his way…and immediately spun around to look at his wound.

"When did this happen?!" She cried, wheeling her chair over to the first aid kit.

"Ten minutes ago- that punk on Shenkman and 3rd had a gun with Cop-killers loaded."

"And you didn't report it because...?" Barbara looked him square in the eye (or at least square in the mask) as she asked this. It was an ironclad rule: If something happens to you, no matter how insignificant, you report it to Oracle. Being shot certainly qualifies.

Dick sighed "Because Alfred listens in and the last time I reported an injury he was up all night worrying."

The redhead frowned but accepted the excuse. "It's getting worse and worse out there Dick. Apart from the merry three-way between the gangsters, and the wacky hijinks of our regular psychos, normal crime is up fifteen percent."

"I know, I know. Listen Barb, you OW!" He cried out in pain as his sometimes girlfriend slapped him on the freshly bandaged wound.

"No, YOU listen Richard Grayson! This city is being torn apart and much as you hate to hear it Nightwing isn't doing a lot of good out there." She held up a hand to forestall objections "Yes, you're catching almost as many crooks as HE did, but that's not the point. Batman's effectiveness didn't come from how many crooks he caught or how many people he saved. He was a LEGEND, Dick, and a creature of the night that criminals lived in fear of. Nightwing was effective, but no one ever doubted you were just a man."

"Babs, I want to but I can't."

She sighed and put a hand on Dick's face. "Yes, you CAN, Dick. The thing of it is, your pride won't let you. You can't give up everything you worked for- even when you know you have to. We've all humored you so far because we hoped you could pull it off. But it's not working, and your pride isn't worth all the pain this city is suffering. Gotham NEEDS Batman, Dick, and if you won't do it…" She trailed off, unwilling to continue, but then hardened her resolve. "If you won't do it, step aside for someone who will."

Dick gaped in shock. He'd feared this ultimatum would be coming for some time, but he'd never expected it to come from her. His first impulse was to shout that she could replace him if she wanted, that he didn't care, that the whole BatClan could go to Hell together. But a tiny voice (which sounded a lot like Bruce) told him to stop acting like an angsty teenager and be a MAN. It asked him if his pride was more important than innocent lives. It asked him if he thought his parents (all three of them) would be proud of him if he just walked away.

After a long period of silence Dick sighed. Pulling off his mask, he sat down on the floor near Oracle's primary monitor.  
"You're right, Babs. I- I've always wanted to be my own man, and now…because of me people are dead. God, you guys must think I'm the biggest asshole on the planet."

Barbara sighed and wheeled herself over to his side. She began to softly stroke his head, relieved that he hadn't left. She'd been so afraid that his damned pride would make him storm off for good, but it had had to be said. "Nah. With the Joker gone, that title falls to Luthor, or maybe Ra's Al Ghul. You're number sixteen on that list. But the important you keep trying sweetie."

Dick chuckled and leaned his head into Barbara's chest. "I guess I've known for a while that this wasn't working. The city needs its hero- I'll make an appointment at Kittlemeier's in the morning. Get my very own cowl- and abandon everything I've done."

A new voice chimed in "Well, I don't know about that"

The couple whirled to see Tim leaning against the living room wall, in full costume, and smirking. The pair suddenly realized their position and sprang apart, their faces flushed. The young hero laughed.

"It's okay guys, frankly I'm glad you're getting closer again. Anyway, Dick if you're taking up the role of Batman, I don't see why I shouldn't become the new Nightwing. I'm almost eighteen now and I can't be the Boy Wonder forever."

Dick nodded, the blood (it was NOT a blush, he told himself) slowly leaving his face. "I didn't think of that. You know, we could make a real tradition out of this. You start out as Robin, move on to become Nightwing, and finally take up the cowl of Batman." He looked at the other two "Oh, come on. You know we aren't going to be the last ones- Bruce may not have known it, but he started a never-ending crusade, and we all agreed to keep it up. So why should it end with us? Now, I'm going to make some calls- but tomorrow I'll start teaching you how to be Nightwing"

Tim smirked again "It can't be that hard if you did it. Grow your hair long, put on the costume, act like an angst-ridden adolescent all the time. Easy."

Barbara laughed while Dick scowled "It's not that easy- Nightwing is famous for his acrobatic abilities and his skill at Escrima. You're an adequate Tumbler, and you know squat about Escrima. Plus, you'll need help learning about Bludhaven."

Tim looked blank "Why would I need to know about… Oh no! NO! I am NOT- repeat, NOT- moving to that open sore you call a city"

Dick's voice was perfectly reasonable "Tim, Bludhaven's crime rate is rising almost as fast as Gotham's. Is your pride really more important than innocent lives" Barbara fought to contain her laughter as Tim tried desperately to think of some way to counter that argument.

"…Damn it. Seven PM good for you?"

* * *

Poison Ivy walked out of the tiny bathroom, where she had spent the last few minutes cleaning her wounds. The night had been a total disaster from start to finish. Harley's plan had been to rob the Gotham Art Museum, which was currently showing a collection of rare animation cells. They had broken in silently, and made it to the main gallery- only to be stopped by the GCPD. Apparently, the museum plans they'd worked from were slightly out of date and hadn't included certain new security measures- specifically, a network of silent alarms that went throughout the museum. They'd barely made it out of there alive.

Nor had this been the first such fiasco. They'd tried to hold up a bank, only to discover that Two Face was currently doing just that. Thankfully, Harvey had won the coin toss, and the women had been let off with a warning. Ivy was sure that that had been because of Harley- TwoFace would never have been so considerate with her. Before that, they'd tried to kidnap an heiress- a miss Vreeland- only to discover that she was already out of the country.

Ivy knew things couldn't go on like this- the two women were quickly becoming a laughingstock in the Gotham underworld. Poison Ivy- Goddess of Green, Queen of the Plant World- was not going to be laughed at. She knew that, in the wake of these failures, Harley was often more reasonable than normal. If she moved quickly, she might be able to make Harley see the truth. That she (Harley) was simply not equipped to lead- no shame in that, some people were simply meant to be followers. Then Ivy could gently assume control, as was only proper.

Approaching Harley's room, Ivy heard the clown girl talking to someone. Curious, the plant woman opened the door a crack. Harley sat on the floor of her room holding what appeared to be a human skull in her outstretched hands. It was to this that Harley was talking. Worse yet, judging by the pauses in her speech, she could 'hear' it responding.

"…An' then the cops started shootin'! I-I didn't know what ta do Puddin'! I ran and ran, but they still almost got me. What?… Oh, they gave up on chasin' us after a while. Police radio said something about Firefly torchin' an apartment building… Well, I-I-I don't KNOW that they think I'm less of a threat than him. I mean, a burnin' building is pretty…Sorry Puddin'. I'll do better next time, Mista J, you'll see!…Oooo yer gonna love this"

The clown girl bounced to her feet, still holding the skull out in front of her, and proceeded to walk to the desk. Ivy could only watch in horrified fascination as Harley laid out the plans for their latest crime to her dead lover.

"See, Puddin'? The city's puttin' on a comedy festival, ta perk up tourism. We're gonna rob the joint! HA Ha HA…Huh? No good? But… Oh. I hadn't thought of that; yeah, I guess it is kinda cliché, huh Mista J?" Harley's eyes filled with tears and she started crying "Oh, Mista J don't say that! Of COURSE I love you! I'm trying my best to follow in your footsteps but I'm not as brilliant as you! Even with you watchin' over me from heaven I can't…What?…You really think so?" Now the blonde looked thoughtful, and a little scared

"I dunno, Msita J, isn't that kinda…YES! I swear I do! You know that!…Ivy? She's nothing, I just can't find a good dildo!…Okay, Puddin'. If-If you think it's best I… A dance? Ooo Mista J I'd love to!"

Harley began to tango around the room with the Joker's skull. She danced with grace and skill to music that only she could hear, occasionally dipping herself, and her every move suggested an invisible partner. Her face was a picture of perfect bliss. Until…

"What, Puddin'? Someone at the door?"

Ivy started, but was unable to get away in time. The door swung open wide, and a very angry Harley Quinn looked down on her.

"See anything interesting, Red?" Harley's voice was cold, furious, completely unlike her normal tone.

"Harley, you're sick!" Ivy said, her voice pleading "You need help! The Joker is GONE and-Ack!"

Harley massaged her fist, which was a bit sore from striking Ivy's jaw "My Puddin' is an angel now, Red. I'd be careful what I said about him, if I was you. Now get your ass to bed and wait for me. Momma's got a new break-in to plan."


	9. Interlude: Selina

Selina Kyle sat in her bedroom, staring at nothing. Literally at nothing, since all her worldly possessions were already packed up. She was leaving Gotham City for good tonight- with HIM gone, there was really no reason to stay.

She'd first heard about it at the Iceberg, when Harley Quinn had rushed in screaming and crying. After almost a half-hour of non-stop crying, the Rogues managed to get the story out of her. The Joker was gone, and he'd taken Batman with him. Ozzy had immediately ordered everyone out of the club- not, he later explained, because he felt anything but glee at the news of Batman's death. Rather, he wanted to spare Harley the inevitable party the Rogues would be throwing. In retrospect, she supposed, that had been downright sweet of the old bird. At the time, though, she'd been too stunned to feel much of anything.

That night had been the hardest of her adult life. She spent the night prowling the city rooftops, looking for some sign that he was alive. The batsignal, a glimpse of the batmobile, some hoods beaten up and left for the police- she'd have taken anything. She'd spent that night dancing between hope and fear- between the certainty that he was dead to the surety that he was alive. She'd only returned home when the sunlight made her visible to people on the street.

The next night had been the same. However, by that point she was almost positive he was gone. By night three, there was no almost about it. He'd vanished before, but then at least there was some sign that the police expected him back- they'd shine that damn flashlight of theirs at the sky, or the police radio would mention him. That wasn't happening now.

Then, on the fourth night of her search, she ran into Nightwing on the roof of Tiffany's Jewelers. She'd tried to convince herself that this was good news- but she could tell from his face that it wasn't. She decided to preempt him. She simply walked up to him and said "He's dead isn't he?"

Nightwing was nowhere near as good as his mentor at concealing his feelings. The sight of her made him uncomfortable, but her statement sent that discomfort away. He nodded and said that he'd been looking for her for days, so she could be told. There followed a long, one-sided conversation. He told her who Batman really was, and that he'd wanted her to know that he cared. She simply listened in silence, and left the same way.

Looking back, now, she supposed that hadn't been fair of her. The kid had tried to do the right thing for her- she should have said something to show appreciation, but honestly she couldn't bring herself to care.

She hadn't been by the Iceberg since hearing the news. She couldn't bear to hear her so-called friends celebrate the death of the man she- loved? Yes, she had admitted it to herself at last. She'd fallen in love with the man in the mask; the one who showed up to stop all her fun. She didn't blame herself for not telling him, nor did she blame him for not telling her. She was old enough to realize that they had too much history and too many differences to be able to just say 'I love you'. It might have happened in time, but now it never would.

She'd had calls from a few of the Rogues- notably Eddie and Ozzy, who'd always been closer to her than the others. She'd told them that she'd be okay, but that she was leaving Gotham. Unlike some of the other Rogues, she felt no particular attachment to Gotham City- it had simply been the city of the Bat. The city of her only worthwhile opponent and the only man to ever capture her heart. With him gone, she had no reason to stay.

So she'd packed her bags, and booked a flight to Paris. But there was one thing she hadn't packed- she'd left the Catsuit on the roof of Police Headquarters right next to the Batsignal. Catwoman without Batman was pointless- so she'd begin working as plain old Selina Kyle again. She'd left a note for the BatClan. It read simply:

Looks like he finally found a way to stop Catwoman for good.

Down below, her cab honked. Selina grabbed her bags and went to the door. She took one last look at her home, and cast her memory back…

…back to when she first arrived in Gotham, alone and afraid but determined to be the best thief in town…

…back to her first meeting with the legendary Batman, their struggle on the rooftops. Her remark that he had remembered for so long "how HARD do you want it to get?"…

…Meeting Edward Nygma, the infamous Riddler, and discovering that he was a human being like anyone else (except crazy)…

…back to the grand opening of the Iceberg Lounge, when all the Rogues then loose in Gotham had come together for a massive party to celebrate the 'retirement' of the Penguin. The sight of a drunken Killer Croc and TwoFace singing Nobody Knows the Troubles I've Seen in harmony, while the Joker rolled on the floor laughing…

…her final rooftop rendezvous with Batman, and how they'd parted without saying what both of them wished to say…

…and she turned off the light and went to meet her cab and her future.

A/N

Okay, I see a lot of people are reading this-and that's good. But no one is reviewing- that's not so good. Is there something wrong? If you like send me a private message, or better yet hit the review button. But let me know if something's wrong, hey?


	10. Chapter 10

Dick stood in front of his bedroom mirror, studying the way he looked in his new Bat-suit. The mirror reflected the morning light, revealing the new suit in perfect detail. It wasn't exactly the same as the original- for one thing the cowl covered his entire face, rather than just the top half. This was because he lacked Bruce's strong cleft chin, and wished to disguise the fact that someone else was behind the mask. For another thing, the suit possessed more padding- Dick also lacked his mentor's bulky physique, and so he added lightweight armor to compensate.

Barbara wheeled her way into the room, bearing a printout. "Admiring yourself, Dick? What do you think?"

"I wouldn't say I was admiring myself; that's your job" Dick said "As for what I think… it fits beautifully, and it's a lot less hot in here than I thought it would be. I feel strong, powerful, invincible- I feel like BATMAN. But I also can't help but think that I'd tear this thing apart with my teeth if I thought for a second it'd bring Bruce back."

Barbara nodded, not really knowing what else to say. Deciding to switch the subject she said "Selina left town last night. Flew out of Kennedy airport at nine pm, on a direct flight to Paris. Five will get you ten there's a break-in at the L'Oeuvre within a week or two."

Dick snorted "You won't get my money, woman. But I'll tell you this right now- I am NOT chasing after her if she does. She may have gotten Bruce all hot and bothered but all I can think when I see her is Well Way Hey Mrs Robinson."

The redhead giggled and picked up the briefing "Well, good news. Cassie brought back some interesting info- Scarface and the Ventriloquist have settled down. They're in a candy store in Crown Heights"

Dick nodded. That was good news. The puppet and the dummy had been nomadic for a while now, a sign of the chaos the Joker's death had created in the underworld. Absently, Dick wondered if the clown might not be pleased with such a legacy.

"Good. Tonight, I'll stop in" he dropped his voice an octave "… as Batman."

"Wow." Barbara said, her eyes wide "You've got him down perfectly. I doubt any crook in Gotham will know the difference. Utility belt okay?"

"Yeah but I'm going to spend today practicing the Batarangs" Dick said, adjusting the belt "My own shuriken weren't balanced the same way. It'll take some getting used to. Um…Babs?" You remember how Bruce left you his mother's wedding gown?"

Barbara nodded as she reached for the glass of water that stood on the nightstand "Yeah. Who would have thought that Bruce could be so sentimental or romantic? Mind you, he probably had a Matchmaking Protocol."

"I was thinking maybe we could put it to good use someday soon" he winced, expecting her to drop the glass.

Instead she calmly took a sip then turned a dazzling smile on him "Took you long enough to get his hint. Of course I'll marry you, Dick- though frankly I was starting to wonder if I'd have to be the one to ask"

The groom-t  
–be snorted and hugged his fiancée. "We'll tell Alfred and the others later. Right now, I think w e should celebrate our engagement…privately"

"Out of the costume first, Dicky. Catwoman may be turned on by the suit, but I am NOT"

* * *

That night, the new Batman swooped down on a building overlooking the innocent seeming Herman's Sweet Shop. He supposed the choice was in keeping with Scarface's classic gangster image. After all, the infamous Murder Inc had used a candy store as their hideout. Nevertheless, the sight of a place as wholesome as this being used by murderous criminals made his blood boil.

There was only one sentry on the roof- proof positive that TwoFace was taking a hands off approach to his subordinates. TwoFace always put two guards on any position- not just because of his obsession but because two guards stood a better chance of stopping or reporting any intruder. 'Best take advantage of their mistake' he thought and moved to attack.

He leapt from the ledge, spreading his cape to slow his fall. He landed silently in a crouch, right in front of the now terrified thug. He rose in a brutal uppercut that sent his opponent flying, only to land headfirst on the opposite side of the roof. Moving silently to the firedoor, he deftly picked the lock and entered the Ventriloquist's stronghold.

* * *

"Count fasta, Dummy" Scarface barked from his seat at the window. "Twoface wants his cutta da loot tonight! An' I don't wanna thinka what he'll do ta me if he don't get it, get it?"

"Y-yes mister Scarface" Arnold Wesker stammered as he tallied the gangs profits for the week. "We've had a very good week sir. Protection is up fifteen percent, and the bank heist went perfectly"

"Well waddya expect? Like I ain't gonna plan a poifect gank heist!" the dummy said "I planned it after all, an' widdout Gatman around ta mess us up, dis town gelongs to us! Gest thing Joker eva did for anyone was dyin'! HA HA HA! Wait, what was dat?"

Thwack! POW! ZORCH! WHACK! The sounds of battle were clearly audible from the hall outside. Scooping his master up in his arms, the elderly schizophrenic ventured outside to see what the commotion was all about. They found three of the goons confronting a single, black-clad figure. A very frightening, very familiar figure.

"B-B-B-" Wesker stammered, overcome by dread.

"Gatman" Scarface breathed, his mouth wide with shock "Get 'im youse clowns! Kill dat gastard AGAIN!" Suiting action to word, the dummy opened fire with his tiny tommy gun.

The dark figure dove out of the way of the gunfire, and barreled into a thug. A flurry of punches sent the muscular brawler to the floor, and Batman was once more in motion. A roundhouse dispatched one assailant, and a well-flung batarang did for a second. Finally, the Dark Knight faced the bizarre duo alone.

"Dis ain't possible.." the dummy said, as his 'partner' tried to reload the small machine gun "Yer dead! Da Joker offed ya!"

Batman lunged forward and seized the wooden wastrel from Wesker's arms. Pulling it close he growled "Wrong." He then yanked off the dummy's arm with a single pull Wesker fell to his knees, shrieking at the sight of his protector's injury.

"You GASTARD!" the injured doll swore "Dat was my shootin' arm!"

From long experience, Batman knew how futile it was to question Wesker in the presence of Scarface. Therefore he addressed the dummy, though it galled him to interrogate a lump of wood. "If you don't want to lose the other one, talk. Where's TwoFace?"

"Uh Uh" the dummy said, as its unsupported head lolled back "If I tell ya dat freak'll kill me."

The masked man pulled the toy-like gangster close and snarled "TwFace isn't here. I AM. So talk."

Wesker, thoroughly concerned for his master, wailed out "Please d-don't hurt mister Scarface! TwoFace is.."

"SHUT UP DUMMY!" The doll bellowed "Do ya wanna get us goth whacked?!"

Batman heard sirens in the distance; he needed to get this done before the police arrived. With one hand, the Dark Knight yanked off the other arm. "Go on Wesker."

"He-He's at a sports bar he owns the Root For" the aging madman said "Now, please, let Mister Scarface go"

Dropping the dummy, Batman moved to the window, and fired off a zip line. Turning back to where Wesker held his boss cradled in his arms, he said "The police will be here soon. Don't give them trouble or I'll be back."

* * *

TwoFace moved through his now-empty bar, heading for the backroom/armory. Word of the Ventriloquist's capture had gotten around quickly- as well as the stories of who had captured him. TwoFace was of two minds on the subject- on the one hand, he didn't believe for a second that Batman had survived his swim at the chemical plant. On the other hand, it could easily be some other nut in a costume. Best to be prepared for anything.

He opened the door, and saw two pure white eyes glaring at him from the darkness. He quickly hit the lights, and found the Batman standing between him and the gun racks. Never one to be unprepared, he pulled a .22 pistol out of his double-breasted jacket.

"I don't know who you are, but you're not Batman" he roared. "I don't even have to flip for this- even that weakling Dent wants to kill you for desecrating his Bat-Buddy's memory!"

Calmly the shadow responded "I stood with you and Gordon on the GCPD rooftop that night, and swore to take back the city. I was there when you were hit by the acid- in fact I'm the reason it only hit half your face. There was a period of time when you acted to defend the city when I was gone. I know that underneath the gangster façade is a good man, who struggles daily with a monster."

Dent was taken aback- he'd never told anyone about his brief career as a vigilante, nor about that fateful night on top of Police Central. Only Batman knew of those incidents "But HOW? You're dead, we saw the body!"

Moving quickly, the Dark Knight crossed the space between them, knocked the gun from his opponents hand and delivered a vicious punch to the stomach. "I'm Batman. I can never die." He then began to tie the crime boss up in preparation for the police.

A/N

In the comics, the original Ventriloquist could never manage to make Scarface say the 'b' sound, so he used 'g' instead. Hence 'Gatman'. I know that Arnold Wesker is dead now, but he was such an interesting character that I've decided to ignore his death- much as I've ignored the resurrection of Jason Todd and the whole Salvation Run thing. If it's stupid, if it makes no sense, then it didn't happen.

Also, I'm curious what people thought about last chapter's dancing with the dead thing. My proofreader- who shall remain anonymous at her request- felt it might be a little too macabre. I disagreed, saying it really shed light on the changes Harley's going through as well as how crazy she's becoming. Who was right? Don't be afraid to say that she was, either.


	11. Chapter 11

Batman swung through the night, following his old rooftop patrol route. There were a lot of memories on this route. It had been the very first one he'd ever done as Robin, way back when Bruce was still new to the idea of teamwork. It had been on this very building that he'd first kissed his now-fiancee. He liked this route, and was determined to savor it every time he used it.

Dick had never been comfortable with the Batmobile- not as a crime-fighting tool anyway. Sure it was the coolest car on the planet, and he'd fought tooth and nail to get permission to drive it, but he felt that better progress could be made patrolling the old-fashioned way. The way he saw it, the point of patrol wasn't just to check for crime- the point was to be seen. To let the criminals of the city know that Batman was once again watching the city so they'd better mind their p's and q's.

Dick gloried in the feel of the costume. He'd thought it would feel bulky and hot, given how much armor and padding were involved in its construction. He should have known better- Bruce was- had been- a stickler for efficiency. A costume that caused him to overheat or which affected his maneuverability was inefficient, so he'd spent millions of dollars developing ultralight materials for the suit. The result looked like plastic, wore like silk, and could stop a thirty eight caliber bullet at close range.

The only downside was that he had to stay 'in-character' for the whole night. He had to act, speak, and move like Batman- no unnecessary acrobatics, no jokes, no showboating and no talking unless necessary. As he'd told Tim "It really takes all the wholesome fun out of running around the city rooftops in your underwear at two AM". Dick was a born acrobat- literally- and he'd always loved the sensation of leaping across rooftops and swinging high over the city streets; he imagined sometimes that that was how it felt to fly. None of the others really got it, not even Tim.

Speaking of whom… "Batman to Robin, where are you?"

He heard the roar of the R-Cycle over the communicator "I'm heading up Forty-fifth Street now in pursuit of a couple of robbers."

"Batman to Batgirl, come in…Oracle, where is Batgirl?"

"She went to investigate a possible assault at the Botanical Gardens. I haven't heard from her since. "

"I'll go check on her. Tell Robin to follow me ASAP. Batman out" The new Dark Knight shot a line out due west and headed for the Gardens. It was not a lengthy journey- in fact he was reasonably sure that Bruce himself would have taken longer, since Bruce never took shortcuts but stuck rigidly to 'approved routes'. Within minutes, he'd arrived at the large open air complex.

The Gotham City Botanical Gardens were a beautiful mix of modern art and natural beauty. The City had spared no expense in the construction of the facilities, and had obtained several rare species of plants, which filled the air with their various scents. Further more, the City had commissioned many noted artists to produce statues which were placed here and there among the greenery. During the day, the white marble of the statuary created a pleasant contrast to the ever-present green. At night, however, it provided easy cover to hidden assailants.

Such was Batman's thought as he prowled the gardens, searching for his missing friend. He wanted to jump at every noise, to scan the shadows but Batman didn't do that sort of thing- Batman never showed how he felt and certainly never showed that he was nervous. It took all of Dick's self control to proceed slowly and calmly through the grounds.

In the central exhibit was a colossal statue of the Greek goddess Demeter- goddess of the seasons. The artist had made her twenty feet tall, standing with her arms spread wide as if gesturing to the entire garden complex. Dangling from one arm was Batgirl, bound up with vines. Vines meant Poison Ivy- and in a building full of large exotic plants that meant big trouble. Confronting Ivy here was like confronting Killer Croc in the swamp. The terrain favored her and gave her plenty of weapons. Still, if it had to be done, it had to be done.

'First things first.' He thought and reached for a batarang. A perfectly aimed throw sliced through the vines, sending Batgirl tumbling towards the ground. In an incredible display of acrobatics, the dark-suited vigilante spun herself in mid-air to land on her feet. A few seconds later, she was rubbing he feeling back into her arms and detailing the nature of her capture.

While on patrol in the area, she'd heard a woman scream for help. She'd raced to the scene, only to find a woman crouched alone in the shadows. Assuming herself to have been too late to prevent a mugging/rape/both, Batgirl had moved closer to check on the victim. However, closer examination revealed the woman to be Poison Ivy- who then blew some sort of pollen into the vigilante's face. The next thing she could remember was being suspended several dozen feet in the air.

Batman looked up and scanned the dark greenery. "All right Ivy" he called "You might as well come out. I know you're here somewhere."

A figure emerged from the bushes, and astonishingly, its hands were in the air. "I surrender" Poison Ivy said calmly.

Batman was immediately suspicious, and Batgirl settled herself into an aggressive combat stance (Fists balled in front of her face, weight shifted forward) at this bizarre event. "You surrender?"

Ivy nodded "I only did this because I needed to tell someone. Someone who could stop her before she does something we'll all regret."

"Stop who?" Batgirl asked warily, not relaxing her stance an iota. Poison Ivy wasn't the most physically dangerous of the Rogues, but here in the Botanical Gardens her power was nearly limitless. "And why us?"

"Harley. She- Can I put my hands down?" Ivy said "This is damned uncomfortable"

"Live with it" Batman growled, somewhat disturbed by this "Why are you ratting on Harley? I would have thought you two would be partners after the Joker's death."

"We were, for a while. Harley- she's gone crazy. She thinks the Joker's become her guardian angel, and she says she can hear him talking to her. Worse, he seems to be giving her instructions- she keeps talking about 'carrying on his good work' and 'giving him his immortality'. She- she's more violent now" Ivy stepped closer, and Batman was shocked at her appearance. Her lip was split, her nose had recently been broken, and a large bruise covered her left eye. New scars and bruises adorned her arms, and he could tell it hurt her to walk. "She did all this to me over the last couple of nights, after I saw her dancing with the Joker's skull."

"All right, so Harley's turned into an abusive lover and is obsessed with the Joker. Why tell us?"

"Because she's planning something. Something big. It-!"

A loud crack split the air, and a large hole appeared in the middle of the green woman's chest. She fingered the wound, and brought her now-bloodied hand close to her face for inspection. She turned to Batman, and fell over.

Batman threw his team mate to the floor, just as a second bullet passed through the space she'd occupied. "Sniper! Stay down!" before covering her body with his. "Batman to Oracle, we're in the Botanical Gardens and pinned down by a sniper- from the trajectory I'd guess they're shooting from across the street. I think they're using a bolt-action rifle, judging by the time between shots. Poison Ivy is down, possibly dead. Send assistance- backup and medical aid. NOW!"

"Roger, Batman. Robin will be there in a minute and a half- try not to die."

Dick wanted to say something like 'I'll do my best' but Batman didn't say things like that. Instead, he crawled to Poison Ivy's side. The plant woman was in a bad way; the bullet had passed through numerous veins and nicked her lung for good measure. Already, she was much paler, and he knew she wasn't going to last much longer. At the sight of her old enemy, she reached out one hand and motioned him to come closer. Even from just a few inches away, he could barely hear her- her voice was barely audible.

"Harley…trying…resurrect…" her hand slipped from his shoulder. Her eyes went glassy, and she was dead. Batman closed her eyes and reported to Oracle.

"Ivy's dead. Where is Robin?"

"Just got to the building across the way, Batman" came the Boy Wonder's youthful voice "I found where the sniper was- you were right, there's a bolt action rifle here, with a big telescopic sight. No sign of the shooter, though."

Batman suddenly had a very very bad feeling about this.


	12. Chapter 12

In the batcave, Dick poured over all the information the Batcomputer had on resurrections. Given the fact that Bruce had locked horns frequently with the insane immortal, Ra's Al Ghul, there was plenty to look through. Religious miracles, near-death experiences, chemical and geomantic analyses of Lazarus Pits... it was hard to believe that the world's greatest detective had spent this much time researching the subject. He'd nearly finished when Alfred called on the intercom.

"Master Dick, you have a visitor. Mister Kent of the Daily Planet. Shall I tell him No Comment?"

"Very funny, Alfred, very funny. I'll be up in a minute- meanwhile give him lunch, I'm sure he's hungry. Lois can't cook and neither can he; my guess is he'd do almost anything for a hot meal."

"Very well, sir. Perhaps he can be persuaded to clean the main oven for me- it still hasn't recovered from Master Bruce's attempt at caserole two months ago."

Tim took off his costume and dressed in his civilian clothes. Somehow, it had always been easier to talk to Clark when they were both in civvies. Somehow, the sheer…Superness of the man was lessened when he was just plain ol' Clark Kent, even for those who already knew his secret. Bruce had really been the only one who could talk to Superman the same way he talked to Clark.

Strolling into the kitchen, he was only half-surprised to see his visitor cleaning the huge oven with heat vision. Clark was kneeling on the floor in his usual blue suit and slowly panning his heat vision over the filth-encrusted oven. Alfred was at the range, preparing lunch. He tipped his young master a wink.

"It seems you were correct, Master Dick. Mister Kent has also volunteered to clean the roof in exchange for some bouilliabaise."

"Bad move Clark- you should have held out for the lobster bisque." Dick quipped as he sat down at the table.

"…I didn't know it was an option." Clark said, frowning. He made one last quick sweep and stood up.

"Well, too late now. I'd advise against trying to renegotiate- you've already cleaned the oven, so Alfred is in a strong bargaining position."

The older man sighed and sat down. "I heard you brought down TwoFace- good work. Stories are already coming into Metropolis that not only is Batman back but he's immortal. They say you were just lying low to see who acted up while you were gone."

Dick smiled proudly "I know. Crime rate is plummeting"

Clark frowned "Fr YOU maybe. Seems like half the crooks in Gotham are fleeing to Metropolis. All kidding aside, Dick, how are you doing? How are you holding up?"

The young man sighed "It's not easy Clark. Bruce was- well, he was an extraordinary man. A genius in the most literal sense of the word. It seems like he was always two steps ahead of most criminals and three steps ahead of the rest of us. Those are big shoes to fill."

Clark nodded "Yeah. Listen, I didn't just come here to talk and eat delicious seafood stew. I wanted…"

"…to ask me when Batman would rejoin the Justice League" Dick finished and sat back in his chair "Clark, I don't think that's going to happen. Don't get me wrong, you know I admire you guys, and I think the world of your work. But Batman was never meant to watch over anything more than Gotham City. All those times Bruce was off fighting the good fight with you guys, this city went to hell. I'm having a hard enough time holding it together as is- and pretty soon, Tim will be going off to Bludhaven. I can't afford the time to join the league."

The reporter frowned; not an angry frown but his patented 'I-respect-your-decision-but-I-think-you're-making-a-mistake' frown. "Dick, the Justice League needs Batman."

"No, you guys needed Bruce. He was the master detective and the consumate strategist. I'm neither of those things, and what I do have to offer you already have. Clark, I want to thank you for the offer- it's a tremendous honor, really. But I can't do it."

Clark nodded "I wish I could convince you to change your mind, but I can tell you've given this a lot of thought. It's, um, it's still all right if I stay for lunch, though, right?"

Dick smirked. "Well, I don't know. Did you call Lois and tell her you'd be eating here?"

Clark threw a bread roll at him. Alfred, who was just brining in the first course, noted this.

"Excellent aim Mister Kent, as always."

"Thank you, Alfred. Could I have some milk with this, please?"

* * *

Later, after Clark had gone, Dick returned to the cave and his computer. As he was sitting down, a fresh window opened, displaying the face of his future bride.

"Any luck?"

"Not with the research, no. I've checked everything the computer has, and believe me there's a lot. There's nothing here about bringing the dead back to life. Oh, there are a few case studies- Green Arrow and Superman, for example. But those were exceptional cases and unlikely to bring back the Joker. I thought I had something with old man Ghul's Lazarus Pits- a part of the ritual refers to 'restoring life to the lifeless'- but it's just referring to rejuvenation. I even called Jason Blood and asked him about it. He said that resurrection requires a sorceror of fantastic power- and that there aren't any such in Gotham and even if there were they damn sure wouldn't help bring back the Joker. You look worried, Babs, what's wrong?"

"You-um, you have a letter. From Ra's Al Ghul. It's encoded in the file I'm sending you now. I haven't read it- didn't seem right."

Dick opened the file and started reading, his face growing dark with fury. "How- How DARE he?! Listen to this, Babs.

_Dear Mister Grayson_

_It was with a heavy heart that I heard of the Detective's death at the hands of the mad clown. He was a truly great man, and could have been a great asset to my Cause. Nevertheless, life goes on for those who yet possess it. I hereby inform you that my corporation will be entering the Gotham City market. Do not attempt to block us- you are not half the businessman that your predecessor was, nor do I have the slightest interest in you. If you attempt to stop me, I shall crush you utterly, as I was never willing to have your mentor crushed. Never forget, I have the wisdom of the ages on my side while you are a young fool._

_My heartfelt condolences on your loss,_

_Ra's Al Ghul"_

Barbara rolled her eyes "Wow. Condolences right along with his death threat and egotistical posturing. He's all heart." She glanced at Dick who was strangely calm despite his anger. He just sat there glaring at the screen. About now, Bruce would be going supernova, activating protocols left and right.

"He's all crap. Old man Ghul hasn't learned a new trick since the roaring twenties- and if he tries to set up his League of Assassins- corporation my ass- in Gotham right now, he's an idiot. The underworld is still at war with itself and the new player will be seen as a threat by all sides."

Barbara gaped openly. "That's a pretty good idea, Dick. You DO have a brain in there somewhere!"

"Back to your mainframes, wench" Dick said as he pushed away from the computer. "I'm going to take a nap before tonights patrol"

A/N  
The story concludes next chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Batman traveled through mid-town, swinging on a zip-line twenty stories above the ground. It was a quiet night so far- the return of the dreaded Batman had had more of an impact than he'd expected. Rumors in the underworld made him out to be a demon from hell, some kind of vampire, a machine, or simply too tough to die. Whatever they believed, most criminals were staying off the streets for now. Dick wasn't naïve enough to believe it would last. Sooner or later greed and desperation would put the slime back on the streets. But until then, he had time to get used to his new role- and to train his own replacement.

The new Nightwing was coming along well. He was fast improving as an acrobat, and his escrima skills were growing by leaps and bounds. He'd even given Tim maps of Bloodhaven so that the younger man would arrive with a good knowledge of the city's layout. Tonight, though, he was still Robin- and Robin was patrolling the docks. Batgirl and Huntress were staking out a suspected meth lab, while Azrael was assaulting a gang hideout. Thus, Batman was alone tonight.

He passed by the building that until recently had held the Gotham branch of the League of Assassins. Just as he had predicted, it had been quickly attacked and destroyed by the various criminal factions struggling for control of Gotham's criminal economy. Although the fanatics within had fought ferociously, and had managed to hold off several attacks, they had been outgunned and outnumbered. In the end, it was the Ghost Dragons, lead by King Snake himself, who had routed the agents of Ra's Al Ghul.

Batman had made sure that the survivors had seen him watching the entire affair. No doubt word had already reached the Demon's Head that Batman was back, and that he was not above using criminals to defeat his enemies. Dick smirked as he thought of old man Ghul trying to wrap his mind around the idea that an enemy could change strategies. 'God knows the old Ghoul hasn't changed 'em once' he thought. 'I wonder if he knows I've formally inducted Azrael and Huntress to the BatClan?'

He pondered this as he traveled. 'I wonder if Bruce ever thought it would come to this- that we'd have five costumed vigilantes all fighting the war he started alone. To think, it all started when one guy put on a costume and started breaking heads. He probably thought he would make his stand alone forever, but he never wavered a bit. Amazing'

The OraCom implanted in his cowl interrupted his thoughts. "Hey sweetcheeks" came Barbara's voice. Since their engagement, she had dropped what formality she had used when speaking to him. He, of course, couldn't do the same- unlike her, he was outside and anyone could hear his side of the conversation.

"Go ahead, Oracle" he replied.

"We've got a silent alarm tripped somewhere in the industrial area. It's…oh god." Her voice went quiet.

"Where is it?"

"The Ace Chemical plant. I guess Harley's making her move, whatever it is. Do you need backup?"

Batman snorted, unable to contain himself "For Harley Quinn? Get serious. Batman out."

He landed on the roof of a bank and stopped to clear his head. He hadn't been to the chemical plant since Bruce died; he was under no illusions about the effect that it would likely have on him. He needed to stay focused, so he sat down and meditated for a minute or two. Thus prepared he set off for the plant.

* * *

Ace Chemicals had been hit hard in recent years. The shift of chemical manufacturing to China, combined with the company's role in creating the Joker, had turned a once-immense company into a shell of its former self. This was reflected in the dismal state of much of the factory. Lighting was poor, the place was filthy and security was a joke. Batman had no trouble gaining entry, and set out to find the deranged miss Quinn before she did whatever she had come to do.

He slowly moved through the facility, keeping to the shadows and scanning the area as he walked. All the evidence indicated that Harley had lost what little sanity she still retained, and that she was far more violent than she had been. He knew that in a straight fight she would be no match for him; even champion gymnastics are no match for years of martial arts training. But overconfidence and carelessness were a recipe for disaster, and he knew it.

Cautiously, he checked the factory floor. He carefully examined each piece of machinery for tampering, checked the chemical stores for dangerous additives, and swept the area for bombs. He took his time- a disaster involving a factory full of volatile chemicals within city limits would be catastrophic. A half hour later he had to admit that there was nothing there. He wondered if perhaps they hadn't jumped to conclusions. Silent alarms malfunctioned and they had jumped on this one because of the location.

He was about to call Oracle to get her to recheck her sensors when he heard a single loud footstep on the catwalk above him. He glanced up just in time to see a female figure run towards the darker end of the catwalk.

Raving towards the catwalk, Batman considered the situation. Harley had clearly chosen the Ace Plant for its significance in both the death and the birth of her lover. Furthermore, she had obviously wanted him to see her; that footstep had been too obvious to be anything but an invitation. It was therefore likely that she had some manner of trap prepared. He had to be on his toes and ready. Also…

"Batman to Oracle, I need reinforcements…Batman to Oracle, come in….Oracle, do you hear me?"

"Ah ah ah, B-man!" Harley's voice was as chirpy as ever, ringing out across the silent factory. The echoes of the huge building prevented him from getting a fix on her location, but he could still understand her. "No callin' your friends ta come an help! This is a private party! Heeeheeheee!"

"Quinn…Harley…Give it up." He called out as he moved towards the metal staircase to the catwalk "The Joker isn't coming back. You need help, Harley. Someone's killed Poison Ivy…"

"Well, duh, Buttman" the voice responded, with a childishly mocking tone "I killed her. Stupid little petal head was finking on me! Plus, she was really starting to get on my nerves. Now come on up here and play with me! Maybe you managed to cheat my Puddin' of his victory, but I'd like to see you do it twice! Hee hee hee hee!"

Something in that giggle disturbed the Dark Knight, though he never slowed his ascent. It didn't seem like Harley, although he couldn't put his finger on why. It was oddly familiar as well, though again he couldn't pin down why that was.

Finally he reached the catwalk, and cautiously moved towards the darker end. He was uncomfortably aware of the similarities between this and the final moments of Bruce's life. Still, he pressed on, every sense stretched to the limit.

His ears, straining to catch any sounds, caught a low whistling and he dove forward. A loading hook, attached to a length of chain, swung through the space his head had occupied until a second before. If he hadn't dodged then, armor or no, he'd have been killed instantly.

"Oooh a nice dive by plucky newcomer, Bratman" Harley said, doing a fair imitation of a sportscaster "But he's in for some tough competition, and he'll have to see if he can keep his edge! Heeheeheeeheeheeheee!"

a knife came flying at him from out of the darkness. Batman ducked, and then- because he knew it couldn't be that easy- jumped to the side just in time to avoid a second blade. He broke into a run, deciding to sacrifice caution for aggression. Harley had clearly rigged some basic traps, but apparently had to trigger them herself. If he moved quickly he could deny her the chance to do so.

As he neared her position he was better able to make out his opponent. Sure enough, Harley Quinn stood on the catwalk, in her red and black costume. Oddly she didn't seem to be wearing her usual tasseled hat, but he couldn't be sure since her face was in shadow. In her hands was a small control box, no doubt the trigger mechanism for her various traps. Without breaking stride, he extracted a batarang and hurled it with perfect accuracy. It knocked the control from her hands, and sent it plummeting over the side. With the traps rendered harmless he slowed his pace..

"Give it up, Harley" he said, as he slowly approached "You can't resurrect the Joker." He didn't want to spook her; without her traps Harley was largely harmless. Or so he thought.

"Oh but you're wrong Batsy" she said "I already HAVE" she leaned forward, bringing her face to light for the first time. What he saw made Batman gasp.

Harley's once peachy skin was now bone white. Her pert lips had been replaced with a hideous, red-lipped grin. Her hair was still done up in pigtails, only now it was a bright shade of green. All bad enough, but it was her eyes that truly shocked the Dark Knight. Harley's eyes had always been alive with feeling; whether happiness, love, sadness or rage- her eyes truly were the windows to her soul. Now, he looked into her eyes and saw only madness and flat murder. "My god…you-you dipped yourself, didn't you?" his voice was soft, hushed, shocked.

"Yep!" she said, her voice alive with malicious glee, though her eyes were as cold as ever "I wanted to make sure my Puddin' was remembered forever. But I didn't know how, not really. He came down from heaven himself and told me what to do. To make sure he was remembered, I had to take on his role. I had to make the ultimate sacrifice for my love- myself. I'm not Harley Quinn anymore, now I am the Harlequin. And now, Batman, I'm going to make another sacrifice…YOU! Heee hee hee heheheh ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!" And with that, the crazed woman launched herself at the vigilante.

Shocked by her appearance, and her laughter (which was EXACTLY like the Joker's) Batman was taken off-guard. Her flying kick caught him in the face, and sent him stumbling backwards. The clown gave him no time to recover, launching a flurry of attacks which kept the Dark Knight on the defensive. As he recovered his senses, Batman began to counter her attacks more effectively. He blocked her punches and elbow-jabs, finally catching one tiny fist. He judo-flipped her over his hip, sending her across the metal walkway.

Harlequin turned the skid into a reverse-summersault, and came out into a crouch right near the knives she'd thrown earlier. Taking one in each hand, she resumed her attack. Slashing and stabbing, she forced Batman back against the railing. Then she paused and looked upwards.

"See ya in a minute Mista J"

Harlequin hurled herself at Batman knocking them both over the side towards a bubbling vat of chemicals. "Déjà vu all over again, huh, Batso? Let's see if you get out of this one! HAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"

Suddenly, a pair of shadowy figures swung out of the darkness and caught the two enemies in mid-air. Batman looked up, to see Robin smile back at him. Across the way, Batgirl was fighting to keep her grip on the furious Harlequin.

"I guess you needed help after all, huh Boss?"

"…Guess so."

* * *

As the police arrived, Batman prepared to depart. He'd tied the deformed Harley Quinn to one of the support beams, along with a recording of her confession. As he turned to go, she called out to him.

"This ain't over, B-man! I'll have my revenge for taking my Puddin' away! Ya hear me?! I'll kill that whole miserable family of yours! YOU WILL NEVER BE SAFE FROM ME!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

Finally, though, her hateful laugh faded into the distance. Batman stopped on top of the WayneCorp Tower, and looked down at the city. Robin came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Dick looked at him and spoke

"Why didn't any of us see this coming? We should have known from the start that Harley would be a danger to herself with the Joker gone. We should have tried to get her help, but instead we ignored her. Now, I have a horrible feeling that this will only be the start of our problems with her."

Tim sat down on the ledge and swung his legs over the side. "Maybe, but remember we had a lot on our plates. Bruce's death, the war in the underworld, taking on our new identities…We aren't gods, Dick, and we had to prioritize. Besides, between you and me, I think it's like a law of nature: If you have a Batman, you need a Joker."

Dick snorted, but Tim continued "I'm being serious. I think it's a question of cosmic balance. Good and Evil, Order and Chaos, Sanity and Madness- whatever. The universe needs both. Besides, tonight hasn't been a total defeat. Yes, Harley turned herself into a Jokerette. Yes, she's probably way more dangerous than she's ever been before. But on the other hand, the League of Assassins is out of Gotham, I stopped a drug smuggling ring, and Azrael put twelve gangbangers in jail and four more in the ICU. On the whole, we did all right tonight. Now go home, change your clothes and spend time with your fiancée."

As Tim swung away, Dick realized how right the younger man was. They were doing well. They had suffered a major hit when Bruce died, but they'd rallied well and now the city was almost back to normal. He looked out over Gotham one last time before heading home. Over the big city.

His city.

The End

A/N

Now back to work on the epilogue to Joker's Wild. Its called Recovery, if anyone wants to know.

What did we all think?


End file.
